Trial By Separation
by Veilfire Runes
Summary: Despite the bitter snowstorms of Caradhras, the Fellowship decides to continue their attempt on the perilous mountain path. But when the weather turns foul again, Frodo and Legolas are separated from the Company. The two must quickly learn to work together in order to survive the perils of the mountain and rejoin the Fellowship, or else risk the Quest failing altogether.
1. A Mountain's Wrath

The world stood tipped upon the edge of night, the sun clinging desperately to the pale edges of the sky, tingeing all with a hushed golden light. The very air seemed trapped, as if the world had taken a deep breath and held it against the oncoming wall of night.

It was only our second night in the mountain pass proper, though it felt like an eternity. For the last two days, we had been beleaguered by the incessant cold and flurries of snow, which had culminated in a terrible snowstorm that had raged for most of the night. Early this morning, our Company had fallen into argument, driven to despair by the weather, as to whether or not to turn back and seek another path, or to continue on. It had fallen on me as Ringbearer to make the final decision; and despite the lure of warmth and safety of retreat, I could not ignore Gandalf's grave misgivings of the other paths. He had never steered me wrong before, after all.

Aragorn had warned earlier in the day that another storm was coming, even as we'd trudged through last night's bitter snowfall, already piled knee-high, at least to a Hobbit. We had been fortunate today to come across a tiny cave, barely large enough to contain a single person if one wanted personal space, and most definitely far too small for a company of nine and a pony.

Caradhras had proven to be extremely stingy with its shelters thus far.

Squashed in as we were, the air of the cave was quickly becoming stuffy and, frankly, it smelt very unpleasant. The closeness of Bill and the other members of the Fellowship were not helping with the smell either. Gandalf had retreated to the very edge to smoke his pipe; Sam and my cousins were caring for Bill; Aragorn and Legolas were going through their packs and conversing quietly; however, their conversation was being drowned out by Boromir and Gimli's increasingly loud bickering.

It was extremely grating on my stressed nerves.

In order to escape and keep my own fraying temper, I stepped out into the snow-covered edge of the mountain scree, hoping to enjoy the fresh air for as long as possible before the storm trapped us altogether. The wind gusted refreshingly in my face, prompting a small sigh of relief, blowing away the malicious whispers of ill-tempered remarks I'd dreamt up to say to the Fellowship.

" _Sêw!_ "

I turned sharply at the sudden yelp that broke the evening quiet, carrying loudly over the voices of the Fellowship. Just in time I spotted our company's Elvish representative stumble from the cave, retching and spitting in disgust. it was, I had to admit, the most ungraceful I had ever seen him in our few weeks travelling together. I was not the only one to stare, although, only Gimli was openly laughing.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's voice was filled with alarm, picking up the Elf's discarded water canteen and sniffing it suspiciously. "Legolas, _boe dhen eithad?_ "

Legolas shook his head once, still bent over the cliff edge, his chest heaving in-between pained coughs. Seemingly placated somewhat, Aragorn turned his attention to the still-laughing Gimli and brandished the canteen.

"And what was your part in this, Master Dwarf?" he asked, frowning.

"Ach, it was only a joke, Aragorn. A tiny pinch of tobacco ash." The Dwarf shrugged, unconcerned. "The princeling is overreacting."

"This is no time for foolish pranks!" Gandalf snapped. "It may have escaped your notice, Master Dwarf, but-"

Whatever it was that Gandalf was going to say next was drowned out by an ominous rumble. The entire company froze in alarm as the rumbling came again, louder and closer this time.

"Avalanche!" Boromir's voice boomed out, shattering the paralysis that had suddenly gripped us all.

"Inside! Now!"

But in that moment as I made to rush back to the cave, the mountain gave a tremendous heave. My arms flailed wildly for balance as the mountain shook, my feet lost their purchase upon the icy ground, sending me flying backwards in a fall I felt certain would result in my death; we were, after all, perilously high upon a mountainside.

I could hear the panicked cries of the others from the cave as they noticed my plight: "Frodo! Mr Frodo!"

And then suddenly, my fall was arrested as I was snatched from thin air by the thin muscular arms of the Elf and thrust unceremoniously onto his back.

"Hold on!" he ordered and I obeyed without complaint; knotting my hands in the supple suede of his tunic, my face buried in strands of golden hair. I had not noticed until then the absence of his trademark bow and quiver, but I was grateful for their absence now; it made it far easier to cling to my rescuer.

I could not see; I could only hear the sound of the mountain tearing itself apart, the wind howling like a pack of ferocious wolves. I could feel Legolas struggling to move towards the cave against the force of elements and the peppering sting of the snow and hail against my skin.

There was a thunderous crack! followed by a low persistent rumble.

Legolas tensed and redoubled his efforts to make the cave but then abruptly we were struck by a crushing force and borne backwards towards the edge.

Snow was everywhere, pressing against my face, smothering my breath. I clung as fiercely as I could to Legolas, the feeling of his tunic clutched tightly in my hands the only sense not lost to me in those few desperate moments, and the frantic play of his muscles beneath me as he clawed for purchase. And then, with a sudden jolt we stopped.

I opened my eyes slowly, terrified of what I might find.

There was nothing beneath me but snow and ice and death. We were dangling precariously on the mountainside several feet down from the pass where our Fellowship stood; and we were dangling there by the pure grace of Elvish strength, Legolas' fingers were clamped vicelike around the exposed rocks, his every muscle holding us there, even as his feet sought for footholds in the almost sheer cliff-face.

"Frodo?"

"I am here, Legolas."

"Are you hurt?"

"No." My voice sounded small and frightened to my own ears.

"Good. I will need your assistance in returning to the pass."

My assistance? What good could I do? I could not help pull him up, and certainly all I was doing now was making it harder for him to hold on.

"Frodo." His voice, as calm and even as ever, brought me out of my panicked whirling thoughts. "You must call for Aragorn. I cannot hold us here and waste strength on calling for aid. So you must. But carefully, too much shouting could bring the mountain's wrath back down upon us."

He did not have to add that if such a thing happened, we, trapped here as we were, would most certainly die.

I nodded stiffly and took a deep breath.

"Aragorn! Aragorn!"

My first attempt was pitiful, echoing mockingly in my ears. But the second was louder and carried better. I paused, straining to catch even a hint of a reply.

"Frodo?"

Aragorn! His voice was faint, but there and my heart leapt for joy. He had heard!

Above, Aragorn's noble features appeared at the edge, a bodiless head that frowned in concern at us as it took in the details of our predicament. "Are you both unharmed?" he called down. I noted the careful way he spoke, allowing his voice to carry down to us without the dangerous volume that would rouse the mountain again.

I nodded my reply to him but then paused, frowning at my silent companion. "Are you hurt, Legolas?"

"No." His voice was a little less breathless now, but I could hear the strain behind it. "Not seriously. I will be terribly bruised tomorrow though, I think."

If we lived to see tomorrow, that is.

There was evidently some discussion going on at the top, for when I looked again, Aragorn's face was turned away, his expression one of terrible annoyance. Though, he was careful to smooth this away before looking back towards us.

"We have no rope." he told us, with some bitterness. No rope! Dismay filled me. How then were we to climb back up?

Legolas was struggling to hold us where we were, he surely could not manage to climb as well.

My feelings must have shown clearly on my face for Aragorn hastened to continue in what was obviously intended to be a reassuring manner, "We are fashioning one of blankets and our cloaks, but it will take some time. Can you hold on?"

"I must," Legolas said, "but I fear the weather and the dark will work against us."

I quickly repeated his words to Aragorn, who nodded and vanished from sight, presumably to aid with the 'rope'. I sighed, worn out by the frantic terror that had consumed me just a few minutes ago. Just a few minutes, my mind sluggishly grasped. It felt like hours: the mountain quaking, the blind torrent of snow and the precious moments it had taken Aragorn between responses. Snow was still falling steadily and the darkness was creeping in more thickly, even as the wind began to start up more frequent buffeting gusts; I could feel each tense of Legolas' muscles as the wind conspired to knock us loose.

"Legolas?"

"Mmm?" I felt terrible for distracting him as he fought so hard to keep us from falling.

"Is there anything I can do? To make things easier for you, I mean." How much I could manage was debatable, my fingers and toes were already growing numb with the cold.

The Elf shook his head, his hair tickling my nose. "Not at this moment, Frodo. You do not weigh much, thankfully. This would have been much harder with anyone but a Hobbit."

I gave a small laugh, more sob than laugh if I was being honest, picturing Gimli or Boromir or Gandalf clinging to Legolas' back. It was not really funny, but it made me feel a little better. Anything to distract me from the increasingly insistent whispers in the back of my mind that Legolas would betray me, drop me at the first chance he got. Why wouldn't he, since this whole mess was my fault?

More minutes passed in silence as I fretted, though how many I could not reasonably be certain, until at last a makeshift rope of cloaks and blankets tumbled down the mountainside to hang just a few inches from Legolas' head.

"Legolas?" It was Pippin that appeared above us now, his voice high with fear. Hobbits do not like heights after all, and he was staring straight down the drop at us. I myself was trying very hard to not think of the drop beneath my feet. "Strider says to take hold of the rope."

"I cannot." Legolas shook his head. "If I let go to grab the rope, we will fall. I do not have footholds."

Dismayed, I repeated this message to Pippin, who vanished momentarily, evidently to repeat this unwelcome news to Aragorn.

"Can you reach, Frodo?" He asked upon his return. I eyed the rope doubtfully.

"Can you move it along a bit?" I asked. "A bit to the left and lower it a little more?"

The rope gave a few twitches along but did not drop any further down. Evidently then, they were giving us all they could. I had to try, if we were to have any chance of surviving this.

"Legolas..." I did not know what to say to him? To brace himself? This would undoubtedly be very uncomfortable for him, but if he could not reach the rope himself...then there was no other way.

He nodded. "Go, Frodo. I am prepared."

I paused for a second, too terrified to begin, before slowly uncurling my fingers from their death-grip on his tunic. Bracing my feet against the strong leather of his belt, I carefully shifted my hands one at a time to his shoulders.

"Use my hair if you must, Frodo." Legolas encouraged softly. I did not want to, it would definitely hurt him, but I did not have much choice. The wind was sending the rope swishing back and forth.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I used it to pull myself up, one foot on the shoulder my hand had so recently vacated. Now, I just had to grab the rope in order to pull myself up completely.

The rope swung close.

I snatched at it, launching myself from my precarious perch.

I missed.

Once again, I toppled madly into the vast emptiness. I heard Pippin's cry of shock; felt Legolas snatch at me once again. He was clinging to the rock-face with only one hand, the other locked around my wrist, his face with contorted with pain and effort, and a low steady stream of Sindarin curses flowing from his mouth.

The strain was too much. As Legolas tried pulling me in closer, the rock that his fingers had been gripping for support crumbled.

And together, we fell into the night.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading! And many thanks to my beta-readers: Morbubble, Tobi is a good boy, and love-yoshness, all of whom can be found here on FFn under those usernames.

Leave a review please, if you enjoyed this chapter.


	2. Storm of Snow

Once, when I was much younger, far more foolish and living at Brandywine Hall, my cousins dared me to climb the largest tree in Buckland. Much to my embarrassment now, I readily agreed, thinking myself brave and grown-up, like Uncle Bilbo had been on his adventures. I had climbed quite high, thanks to the encouragement of my rambunctious cousins, but as I attempted to come back down, my foot slipped on some wet moss and found myself falling. It was not an awfully long way; indeed, I was unhurt from the fall; but to this day, I remember the sheer heart-stopping panic and the dragging seconds of falling unsupported from the tree.

This was nothing like that.

This was much, _much_ , worse.

We fell, and I screamed, heedless of the mountain's fury. Legolas, thankfully, did not lose his head as I did, for if he had things might have been worse than they were. He yanked on my wrist and I slammed into his chest, clinging instinctively to his tunic again as he curled his body around mine. Even now, I realised, he was trying to protect me, rather than save himself.

We fell and spun and crashed against the mountainside, so quickly that I could not catch my breath, and sent the world spinning blurring across my vision. Every so often we'd slow as Legolas clawed at the rockface, only for the mountain to treacherously send us tumbling back into the abyss below.

And then, blessedly, we stopped, with a sudden sharp jolt, so abruptly that I lost my grip on Legolas' tunic. My panicked scream of shock was cut off as Legolas' arm slammed into my stomach like a vice, holding me to him.

We hung there for a brief second before I heard a faint _pop!_ followed by Legolas' pained scream and then we were falling again. This last drop was so fleeting, that the moment I became aware we were falling again was the same moment we dropped into a drift of snow with a breath-stealing _thump!_

For a moment, everything was terrifyingly dark.

Slowly, the spinning snow and stars blinked into my vision and then steadied themselves as my breath gasped out in clouds of pale silver before my nose. I was alive.

 _Alive!_

Breathless, head spinning, bruised and battered, but against all odds, alive! I lay there for a moment, my ears buzzing painfully, every limb frozen. I stared blankly at the lazily drifting snow, terrified that if I tried to move, I would discover that I hadn't survived at all.

Several painfully long moments later, I managed to recover enough of my wits to bully my lethargic limbs into twitching themselves into awareness. Nothing seemed to be broken or too badly hurt, but my thoughts were so dulled that I couldn't truly be sure.

With an abrupt uncomfortable jolt, I realised I was still lying atop Legolas. His body lay between mine and the snow, and was undoubtedly the only reason why I was so unhurt. With a stifled cry of alarm, I rolled away from him, hoping desperately that I had not killed him in my folly. I should never have left the cave, if I had not, we would not be separated from the Company and he would not be lying so still, so pale.

"Legolas?"

My voice wobbled as I shook his shoulder lightly. I needed him to move, to open his eyes and tell me he was alive and unharmed. It was selfish, but in the Wild, he was the experienced Elven ranger and I was just a Hobbit, bumbling along in his wake, with a head full of stories and a few frenzied weeks of experience.

Never had I been forced to fend for myself in the wilderness. I would never make it back to the Company alone.

I whimpered softly at his lack of a response. I shook his shoulder again and gently touched his face, cursing the oncoming darkness that made it so difficult to see. I froze in horror my fingers met something hot and sticky.

 _Blood?_ Oh please, Legolas, please don't be _dead._ Please don't let me have gotten you killed...

Long moments passed as I knelt in the snow by his side, whimpering his name, begging him to move, to prove to me he was still alive. _Murderer, murderer,_ the cruel whisper chanted in my ear. At last, much to my relief, he finally took a rasping ragged breath and I almost jumped out of my skin at the sudden movement. His face contorted in pain and his eyelids fluttered like a frightened butterfly as a low groan escaped his lips.

"Frodo?"

He wheezed. It was unnatural, in my opinion, to hear an Elvish voice so strained and full of pain. His eyes wrenched themselves open, glassy and confused. I brushed away a few stray hairs from his face and attempted a reassuring smile for him.

" _Le maer?_ "

I recognised the tone of the question, if not the words themselves. Bilbo had taught me some Elvish, many years ago and I'd never had much chance to practice it since then.

"I am here, Legolas. I'm not hurt," I hastened to assure him, hoping that was what he'd asked. I wasn't in any great deal of pain and everything still seemed to be working, so it wasn't really a lie.

" _Ma._ " The word was more sighed than spoken. His eyes slipped shut again as pain flashed across his features. I reached out to stop him before I consciously understood what he was attempting.

"No, Legolas! Don't try to move just yet!"

" _Boe ammin._ " He continued to strain to sit up against my restraining hands. " _Boe ammen_...the Company...the Quest." His gasping breaths broke his speech and eventually he slumped back, too exhausted to continue.

"You need to rest first," I told him firmly. "Then we can figure out a way to return to the others." The blow to his head seemed to have disorientated him; I could only assume he could even understand me now and I didn't know enough Elvish to explain.

I looked around us, hoping to for some miracle to appear. The mountain ledge that we'd crashed into was miracle enough really, we could have easily missed it if Legolas hadn't managed to halt our fall for that brief moment. It was a tiny jut of earth, heaped high with the snow that had cushioned our landing, but unfortunately for us, barren of much else of use. The faint and pale moon was now all but obscured by the clouds of the oncoming storm, leaving me without any useful light to see if there was even a way off this ledge that didn't involve more falling. I cursed quietly. There could be a cave just a few feet away, and I'd never know.

All in all, we had very little going for us in terms of survival.

Legolas began mumbling again, jarring me out of my thoughts, his words a broken slur of unfamiliar Sindarin words that I could barely make out. Frantically, I cast my mind back, hoping Bilbo had taught me the Elvish I needed to get through to him. I needed to ask him to switch back to Westron, if he could...

"Legolas, _ú-bedin edhellen. Le...le peded Annúnaid?_ " I cringed inwardly at the mangled phrasing, praying silently that it made enough sense for Legolas at least.

"Shelter," Legolas finally stuttered out. "Cold. Too cold... _perian_. Shelter."

This much was true, but how were we to find it? My mind rang with warnings drilled into me by Bilbo and then later by Boromir. Any shelter we might stumble across in the dark could lead to a Goblin tunnel; certainly neither Legolas nor I could fight anything off like this.

I shivered violently. It was getting colder by the minute and the snow was continuing to fall, thicker and thicker. Belatedly, I remembered Aragorn's warning of another storm, it seemed so long ago, but had only been this morning. We were running out of time. My feet were numb. And surely, it must be worse for Legolas, lying prone in the snow.

"I don't know what to do." I mumbled to myself. It was so cold, so dark and we were all alone, with no supplies... _You will die here, Frodo Baggins... better that you had died in the fall, than to waste away in the cold darkness,_ the whispering chimed in maliciously.

" _Glostrond_." Legolas' voice was so soft, I almost missed it over the rising winds.

"I don't know what that means," I told him snappishly. I scowled at the snow, trying to reign in my temper. I could not take this out on Legolas. _I_ was to blame, not him.

" _Glostrond_ ," Legolas repeated. He paused for a moment, as if frustrated, thinking. "Snow...snow cave? Hole? Boromir."

A snow cave? _Oh!_

All in a rush, I remembered the lessons Boromir had drilled into we Hobbits over and over as we'd ascended the mountain. How to dig into the snow, create a snow door and vents, and trap the warmth inside. It was dangerous, really, for if it was done incorrectly, it could collapse and bury us alive. Or if the vents were wrong, we could suffocate on bad air. But we had to try. Without it, we would certainly die.

With fervour born of desperation, I threw myself at the snow, scratching and scrambling at it. _Be sure to push the snow downhill, little ones,_ the memory of Boromir's lessons reminded me. Downhill if you could, he'd said. All right then. I had to work quickly, so much time had been wasted already and my strength was already waning with the cold. My fingers rapidly grew numb and I was shivering more and more frequently as my clothes became soaked. Almost I thought I saw Boromir kneeling beside me in the snow, demonstrating how to scoop and pack the snow in the most efficient way. Just a memory. I had to focus on the snow cave, not false memories and insidious voices.

A few minutes passed of mad digging before I became aware that there was another hand working at the snow, pale and trembling, yet most definitely not the translucent hands of a Boromir-memory.

"Legolas!" My tone was half admonishment, half relief; for how I could I scold him for helping when we were in such a dire situation? The Elf was kneeling next to me in the snow, toiling steadily, though his face was drawn with pain and he kept his other hand cradled awkwardly against his chest.

"I... rest later. Shelter more important." His words were blunt with exhaustion, not at all like himself. "Together is faster." I nodded, then immediately recognised the foolishness of such an action; it was becoming too dark to see even my hands before me.

Finally, we managed to scoop enough snow out of the way to create a crevice large enough for us both to squash into. It would not be comfortable, to say the least, but hopefully, it would keep us alive. I bullied Legolas into crawling in first, arguing that it had to fit him at the very least since he was so much larger. If he did not fit at all, then we could adjust. He consented reluctantly and spent a few moments patching the walls and awkwardly hollowing out a vent in the "ceiling" with his long knife before urging me in. Thank goodness he'd thought of that, Boromir had said sticks were the best for making vents, but we didn't have any here. Alas that Legolas' quiver had been left with the Company!

It was most definitely a tight fit. _Don't forget a door to seal in the heat_ , Boromir's memory-voice reminded me. _And another vent in the door for air._ I huffed quietly and dragged the snow around the entrance, packing it loosely around the sheath of Sting to create a vent-hole in the 'door'.

And with that, our snow cave was built. It was dark and cramped and damp and terribly cold but it was better than being outside in the rapidly worsening storm.

I pressed in as close to Legolas as I dared. It was better to share our warmth, but I did not want to accidentally jostle him, especially since I did not know exactly how hurt he was.

I must stay awake tonight, I told myself sternly. Someone needed to be awake and on guard and Legolas was far worse off than I was. I should not have allowed him to help so much with the cave, likely chance is that he has made his injuries worse.

There was nothing to be done about it now though. I shivered again, grateful for the cloak that I had miraculously managed to keep on throughout this whole mess. Legolas had no cloak, but he did not seem to feel the cold as mortals did. Another peculiarity of Elves, I supposed. Legolas sighed softly, wrapping one arm loosely about my chest and pulling me close. He was surprisingly warm, considering our circumstances, and I couldn't help but curl a little bit closer. It was so very cold...but I didn't want to accidentally make his injuries worse.

"Don't be foolish, Frodo," He murmured. "Warmer is better."

That was another thing. He always seemed to be able to hear what we were thinking. Were all Elves mind-readers? They were good at...sensing things. Evil things. How uncomfortable then he must be, being in such a confined space with the Ring so close. Did the rest of the Fellowship sense it? What would they do now, without the Ring? Aragorn would look after them...

My thoughts spiralled swiftly from there into the delirium born of exhaustion and sleep claimed me before I could even begin to protest the idea.

* * *

Thank you again everyone for reading! And thank you to everyone who reviewed/faved/followed Chapter 1, you guys are the best!

Reviews are very much appreciated, and Chapter 3 will be up tomorrow. After that, I'll be back on my usual Monday and Thursday upload schedule.


	3. Winds of Hope

_I was falling...falling into an endless abyss of darkness...was there no end to this darkness? Then, I was not falling, just floating, hovering, surrounded by the dark. Sudden terror washed over me as a bright orange light flared in the distance. It became brighter as it drew closer, with sinister flickers of red at the edges. Wisps of smoke curled around me, pulling at my hair and clothes, surrounding me, setting me adrift in a sea of malevolent whispers. I wanted to scream, to run...but I was trapped._

My body lurched and my eyes flew open.

Where was I?

Why was it so dark?

It took me several heart-stopping moments to grasp that I was awake, lying in the darkness of our ramshackle shelter and not still trapped in that nightmare abyss. The wind screamed outside and I shivered, huddling in closer to the steady gentle warmth of Legolas at my back.

Though our situation was less than ideal, I was simply grateful that I was not alone, however selfish such a feeling might have been, and in spite of the price Legolas had already paid in trying to keep me safe. My eyes drifted closed again, trying to shut away the bitter biting cold.

The sooner this night passed the better.

 _I was standing at the bottom of a deep pit, staring up at the sky and the walls of the pit stretching up high above me. Slowly the snow began to fall. Panicking, I threw myself at the walls of the pit, scrambling to try and climb its sheer walls. A rumbling began in the distance and then within seconds, an avalanche flooded into the pit. Crushed beneath the smothering snow, unable to escape, to breathe...slowly suffocating..._

Then, I was awake, as suddenly and abruptly as if someone had screamed my name in ear. My breaths came in rapid pants, harshly loud in the silence of the cave. I uncurled my hand from its death-grip on the Ring and forced myself to take a deep breath. The cave had become hot and stuffy overnight, but at least it had not collapsed and smothered us to death, nor had we been slaughtered by goblins in our sleep.

I was not supposed to have slept at all. I was supposed to have kept watch, protected Legolas.

How _useless!_

First, _I_ get us both into this mess, and now I fail at the one thing I could have done to keep us safe! I pushed the guilt down, I would do better tonight. Likely we would be out in the open tonight, and after all, considering how exhausted I'd been last night, had I not slept, I would have been completely useless to Legolas today. It was fine that I had fallen asleep.

Slowly, and very carefully, I wriggled free of Legolas' restraining arm and crawled to the door, using Sting's sheath to batter my way through to the clean, unstuffy air. I was greeted with a blast of frigid wind on my too-hot face and sighed in relief before belatedly remembering that perhaps, maybe, Legolas might not wish to be rudely awakened by the cold air.

I crawled outside, eyes screwed shut for a moment against the painfully bright morning sun on the snow. At least it wasn't snowing. In fact, when I finally dared to open my eyes again, there didn't seem to be a cloud in the sky. Finally, a little luck, I smiled. I stretched gratefully and swept aside a little patch of snow so as to sit down on my cloak and catalogue my injuries from the fall.

All in all, it could have been far worse. My torso was bruised and battered, but I could not feel any broken ribs, thanks largely to my mithril coat I guessed. My legs and arms were scored heavily with small cuts and large bruises where my clothes had torn and where Sting had battered me. My throat ached from my reckless screaming during the fall, made worse with thirst. That was going to be a problem, as there was certainly no water to be found on this mountain ledge, unless one counted the snow.

My feet and hands were of particular concern and I checked them carefully for the signs of frostbite that Aragorn had warned us of. _The skin may be numb,_ he'd warned. _Or there may be sharp prickling sensation or discolouration._ They seemed undamaged, but I rubbed them carefully to be sure. No pain there or numbness.

I was stiff and battered, but miraculously, I was whole and alive. My stomach gurgled loudly and I was viscerally of delicious home-cooked meals in the Shire, of loud boisterous nights at the Green Dragon, of huddling around a fire and praising Sam's skills at turning rations into meals, of sharing an apple between Merry, Pippin and myself... I laughed aloud, remembering Merry and Pippin bickering over a missing rasher of bacon from Merry's plate, stolen while he'd been distracted by one of Boromir's stories...

My laughter was cut short as Legolas crawled his way out of our snow cave, slowly and awkwardly with only one hand. It was no miracle I was so unharmed, for it was evident now that Legolas had taken much of the damage the mountain had intended for me. His clothes were torn and bloodied; cuts and bruises marred the exposed skin and his high cheekbones; a large gash slashed across his forehead, somehow he'd cleaned off the worst of the blood, but there was still some faint staining across his face. He did not stand as he emerged, as I had, he simply winced at the bright light and shuffled awkwardly to lean against the mountainside, sitting upright with his right arm cradled against his chest.

How in the name of all that was good had he ever managed to help with the shelter last night?

"Legolas?" I scrambled over to him, all at once guilty, horrified and concerned.

"Good morning, Master Baggins." His voice was deceptively light and he even managed to smile faintly at me. The confusion that had been so terrifyingly evident on his face last night was gone now and his eyes were bright and clear, much to my relief.

"How...How bad are you-?" I struggled to express myself, to ask him for the full extent of the injuries I could not plainly see. He seemed to understand.

"My shoulder is badly wrenched, I fear; I managed to set it right a few moments ago, for it was dis...disem...no, dislocated?" A frown creased his brows momentarily and I felt a stab of worry. Perhaps the disorientation from his head wound was not as miraculously healed as I'd thought. "Several of my ribs are likely broken, and it is quite difficult to breathe." He continued, reciting a litany of battered limbs that made me ache in sympathy. He was not entirely stoic about it either. He winced and shuffled restlessly as he dutifully informed me of his list of complaints.

"In truth, we have been rather lucky, Master Hobbit."

"Lucky?" I echoed in disbelief. Until I had heard that list, I had thought so too, but now I was none too certain.

Legolas flashed me another smile. "We are alive. We are not so badly hurt that we cannot continue to move on. I would call that lucky."

His optimism was infectious and I found myself smiling back for a moment, before the doubts crowded back in.

"How will we rejoin the others?" I asked, staring up towards the sky. The Fellowship was up there somewhere, no doubt mourning our deaths. "We cannot climb up to them, certainly. And we fell a long way, they will not spot us."

I did not bother to add that we could, in theory, attempt to continue on to Mordor, just the two of us. While we certainly could attempt it, we had no supplies at all, as well as being injured. We would certainly die, even if we somehow made it off the mountain. Our best chance of survival depended on rejoining the Fellowship, and we both knew it.

Legolas hummed softly in agreement. "This is true." He sighed, shifting in discomfort. "If I know Aragorn and Mithrandir as well as I think, then I believe they will retreat from this fractious mountain and seek for another path. They should manage to descend to the beginning of the pass in about a day or so; longer if another storm hinders them. We are much lower than they, so we ought to be able to make it to the beginning of the mountain pass about the time they do, even moving slowly."

That seemed overly optimistic but I did not openly contradict him. "What if they leave without us?" I pressed instead.

Legolas thought for a moment before replying. "There is not much they can do. You have the Ring - you do still have it? Good. - and therefore the Quest is stalled until they find us. Mithrandir will likely take Masters Samwise, Peregrin and Meriadoc back to Rivendell to seek for Elrond's aid in locating us. His sons, Elladan and Elrohir, know these mountains quite well. Aragorn will remain here and search for us, possibly with the help of Boromir and the Dwarf, though I do not know the latter two well enough to predict their behaviour accurately."

I stared at him for a moment, stunned. Barring the Council of Elrond, this was by far the most I'd ever heard him speak at any one time. It was unusual to say the least, but truly drove home the fact that we were, for the most part, almost complete strangers. Neither of us were really to blame for this, we were very different people. Until now, I had spent most of my time with my cousins and Sam and he had been busy conferring with Aragorn, scouting or hunting. We had never been alone together for any period of time and the Elf seemed to be not overly given to speaking much.

Nor was I these days.

"I do not think even Gandalf could convince Sam to leave without me," I said, smiling a little. I was rewarded with a gentle Elven laugh, which unfortunately, turned almost immediately to a pained cough.

"Will you be able to manage?" I asked in concern. His ribs were broken, I remembered suddenly. Should we bandage your ribs? Or perhaps your head?"

"With what?" The Elf gave a wry smile, gesturing at the slope, barren of anything but snow and ice.

"You could use my cloak," I suggested. Legolas was shaking his head before I'd even finished speaking.

"Absolutely not. You would freeze to death without it." His eyes gleamed with a stubborn glint that seemed almost Tookish. I knew better than to argue with such a look.

"Maybe we should just wait here for the others to find us then." My arguments were weak, I knew, but I was leery of risking the mountain's dangers with Legolas so hurt. What if something attacked us? Legolas would only be able to use one hand and I was hardly what one could call a competent warrior, despite both Boromir and Aragorn's lessons on swordsmanship.

"We cannot afford to wait, Frodo," Legolas said gently. "I do not know how long Hobbits can go without food in such extreme conditions, but certainly it is not long enough for the others to find us. My injuries will also need proper tending to before then. I will heal quickly, which may work against me in the long run, if certain injuries heal wrongly."

He was right, of course and I knew it. But still, I could not help but worry.

"Always you doubt yourself, Frodo, despite every reason to the contrary." Legolas frowned, his expression puzzled, despite his firm tone. "You are far more capable than you think, he said. You survived the Morgul blade, and the Nazgûl, and this fall, you can certainly manage a small trek down the flanks. You are strong, that is why you are a Ringbearer."

His words had the right effect this time. I could feel a rising determination beginning to push aside my doubts in response to his compliment. Legolas grinned faintly, evidently seeing the resolve on my face.

"Let us be away then. We should not waste daylight while we have it."

Slowly, and with much effort, the Elf began to get to his feet as I destroyed last night's snow cave. We could not afford to leave it standing; it was too clear a sign to the wrong eyes that we had passed through here. By the time I was done, Legolas was upright at least, one hand resting on the mountain wall to support himself, his legs somewhat unsteady. It would be hard going for us both, far harder than it had been going up.

I would not complain, I swore to myself. I would not be a burden on Legolas. I had to make myself more useful.

Legolas sighed and looked up towards the sky, muttering to himself in Sindarin, too low for me to hear; the only word I caught was _Elbereth_. A prayer of sorts?

" _Ai!_ " Legolas gave a cry of surprise, smiling. I stared at him, startled. "Look up, Master Baggins! An eagle!"

I squinted up at the sky, painfully bright and blue and caught sight of a faint blurry speck very high above up.

 _An eagle?_

Keen indeed were the eyes of Elves if he could tell that was definitely an eagle.

Legolas clapped my shoulder, grinning, his tone encouraging. "It is a sign from the _Rodyn_ ; we have the approval of Aran Einior. Doubt no more, Master Frodo. Let us be off."

* * *

A.N: As the use of Quenya in Mirkwood was banned by Oropher, and that practice continued under Thranduil's reign, the Elves of Mirkwood referred to the Valar as the Rodyn, and had their own names for them; Aran Einior is their name for Manwë.

See you all on Thursday for the next chapter! As always, reviews and faves are heartily appreciated, and I'm always up for answering questions about the fic, or indeed just to chat about Elves.


	4. The Futility of Elvish Optimism

By mid-afternoon, I was beginning to wish we'd never seen that eagle, that we'd stayed by our snow-cave and that Aragorn or someone had thrown our packs down after us in some mad fit of Elvish optimism.

I was cold, hungry and foot-sore, and it was evident Legolas was struggling just as much as I was. The journey down the mountain was every bit as difficult as I'd anticipated and then more so. My earlier resolve to not be a burden on Legolas was proving a hard one to bear as well, for there was very little I could do to help him with his pain and I could not be trusted to scout ahead. I would not know what to look for in any event.

We walked side-by-side on the thin mountain path where it was possible; although, to call it a path was an exaggeration really. It was, at best, an animal track, if it was a thing at all. I slipped and stumbled frequently on the ice, steadied only by a strong Elven hand on my elbow to keep me on my cold numbed feet.

This is why the Big Folk wear shoes, I found myself thinking frequently. Because of places like this. But then again, Hobbits so rarely ventured away from the gentle rolling hills of the Shire and Big Folk, well, they went everywhere regardless of how dangerous it was. The more dangerous, the better it seemed. Hence they had more need for shoes. We never took the time to appreciate how calm and peaceful the Shire was. We had always taken it for granted, even as we imagined dragons, dwarves and far-off adventures...

Well now I was on an adventure of my very own, just like Bilbo, I'd been swept up in affairs much larger than myself. Only my own adventure, as I'd said back in Rivendell, was turning out very differently, and most definitely in a manner that I did not appreciate.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I wasn't giving the path my fullest attention; I was, after all, very cold, hungry and thirsty by this point, and it was hard enough to simply keep going. So it was no surprise to me when I slipped for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

What was surprising was that Legolas failed to steady me.

One moment I was stumbling along and then there was a moment, just a brief heartbeat in which the world seemed to pause, a breath in which instinctively I recognised something was wrong, and for a second I was back in that tree in Buckland, losing my precarious grip on the way back to safety.

The moment passed all too quickly and then I was flat on my back, slipping uncontrollably down the icy path, feeling that same terror and panic at my helpless descent, before I managed to dig my heels in and stop in an ungainly heap of flailing limbs.

"Frodo!" Legolas slid over to me as quickly and carefully as he could manage, kneeling beside me, his expression full of concern. " _Goheno nin_ \- a thousand apologies, Frodo. I was not paying attention, did not react quickly enough...are you hurt?"

"No, no. I'm fine," I hastened to reassure him. I was more stunned than hurt, really, and very embarrassed. I looked up and caught his gaze, trying to manage a smile. It was the first time I'd ever seen him really look anything other than cheerfully optimistic, with the exception of last night, of course. How different he was to the Elves I'd met before...those ancient eyes in young faces, so weary at heart despite their smiles...

"Perhaps we should rest here for a bit?" He suggested, his bright blue eyes still scanning my face, concerned, frightened even, for my well-being. I nodded slowly, my mind still trying to catch up with what was right in front of me, putting it all together.

And then it hit me, all at once: the cheerful demeanour; the slips between Elvish and Westron as if fluent but inexperienced; how he held himself apart from the group, but joined in if invited...

How very _very_ young those bright blue eyes looked.

No, Legolas was not like the Elves I'd known; he was so much _younger._

More inexperienced with the world beyond his Woodland Realm. Not a child, obviously, or else Lord Elrond would not have allowed him on this quest, or a tween, like Pippin was, but a young adult, more like Merry or Samwise than myself.

Suddenly, his presence in the Fellowship made far more sense. My cousins, Sam and I had often discussed the other members of the Fellowship before we had left Rivendell, wondering what they were like and their motivations for joining us. Boromir and Aragorn were heading South to Gondor and the war there, taking them on the same path as us and Gimli had joined out of comradeship - his father and Bilbo had been on the Quest for Erebor together, so in the months together in Rivendell, we had become friends. But Legolas...he had been the odd one out.

We'd been so surprised to hear Lord Elrond announce his name instead of Glorfindel's or his sons', we'd never even considered that the quiet Mirkwood Elf would have even volunteered to go, so we'd never really discussed him. But now Lord Elrond's reasons were becoming apparent to me: he'd chosen Legolas because he was so young, because he was not yet so old that he had become tired of Middle-Earth and its people, because he was still optimistic and light-hearted and not yet weighed down by years of war and suffering like so many of the older Elves.

I flicked a dry tongue over even drier lips in some desperate attempt at moisture. I should have seen it before now...It was so difficult to think clearly, my head was beginning to ache with thirst.

"Frodo?" Legolas was frowning at me again, his tone prompting. Evidently, he'd been speaking and I had missed it. I felt a blush climb up into my face.

"My apologies, Legolas, my attention had wandered. What were you saying?"

"Never mind, it was unimportant." Those bright eyes were boring into mine again.

"What is troubling you?"

I almost lied, almost told him that it was nothing, but those were not the words that came out. "I am...very thirsty, Legolas. It is hard to concentrate on much else."

"Ah..." Legolas cast his gaze around the mountain slope with an unreadable expression on his face. He frowned momentarily and then gave me a smile. Did he ever not have a reason to smile?

"I have an idea. Put your hands together, Master Frodo." He cupped his hands in demonstration, giving me an encouraging nod to do the same.

Perplexed, I did as I was asked. What was Legolas hoping to achieve? Was he going to perform some sort of Elvish magic? I watched him carefully, looking, perhaps a little foolishly, for some kind of hint of magical talent, of that strange glow I had seen around Glorfindel and Lord Elrond. Instead, I received a handful of snow. I could only stare at him in amazed bewilderment. Surely he knew that you could not just drink snow? Boromir had drilled that into us all often enough; it was too cold, it would lower the temperature of our bodies too drastically.

Legolas only smiled in response to my look and cupped his hands over mine, and finally closed his eyes. His hands were not smooth, I noted absently, feeling the burr of many calluses against my hands. And then, slowly, I became aware of Legolas' hands becoming hotter and hotter, rapidly melting the snow between us, until I was left with nothing but clear water.

Legolas released my hands, opening his eyes. He looked almost exhausted again, and it showed in both his face and tone. "Drink, Frodo. Quickly, before you lose it."

I hastily lifted my hands to my mouth and gulped the water down. It was cool, but not freezing, with a gritty, unpleasant taste. But at least it was water and I was immensely grateful for it.

"Do you feel better?" Legolas asked, studying me with a curious intensity.

"Yes." I smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Legolas. That was...amazing, thank you."

A small smile broke out over his tired face. "I'm glad I could help. Even if it was only a small thing."

"A small thing?" I repeated incredulously. "I could not have done that. I didn't even know you could do that."

"Truly?" Legolas seemed genuinely surprised. "How strange. All Elves could do this thing."

"Is it magic?" I asked curiously. Everyone knew Elves had magical powers, but I'd never seen an Elf actually do anything magical. Gandalf did magic all the time, his antics at the last shared birthday party that Bilbo and I had thrown some seventeen years before shown clearly in my memory: the lifelike dragon fireworks, the smoke ship, the sparkler butterflies for the little ones...

Legolas frowned in puzzlement, head cocked slightly to one side. "Magic? I do not know this word." He shook his head. "This is...the influence of will, of thought, and communication with the world outside of myself."

"Sounds like magic to me," I responded honestly. "Like what Gandalf does."

Legolas gave a thoughtful hum. "Perhaps it is similar, I had not thought of it like that. But Mithrandir has talents beyond those of Elves, that is why he is a Wizard and we are not." He flashed a brilliant grin at me, and I laughed, though I was quite uncertain of what the joke was.

But our laughter did not last long; the wind set up another fierce gust and I shivered badly, and much to my surprise, so did Legolas.

"I didn't know you could even feel the cold." I said, noting his shivers worriedly. I'd never seen him shiver before, not even during the snowstorms or in the snow-cave, and he did not wear a cloak as the rest of us did. But then, it was quickly becoming apparent there were many things about Elves I did not know.

"I feel it." He rubbed at his eyes. "Perhaps not as much as you or the others seem to, but I feel it. It is worse now than it was above; before, it was a little unpleasant, but distant, something I could easily ignore. But now, these wounds sap my strength and I feel colder than I did. It is...strange to be so cold."

A pang of guilt stabbed at me. This was all my fault. If Legolas hadn't tried to save me, if I had only been able to grab the rope, if I hadn't made him waste more of his strength on creating water for me...

"Why did you try so hard to protect me?" I asked him. "If you hadn't, you wouldn't be so hurt."

"I swore to protect you." He gave me a very serious look. "And a promise should never be taken lightly, Frodo Baggins, all Elves know this. A broken promise can have terrible consequences. That fall would have killed you. I knew that, and I knew it would not kill me. Hurt me, yes, but not as badly as you."

"I don't understand."

"Elves...are not like mortals, Frodo. We are stronger, physically." He made a fist and then shook his head, a frustrated expression on his face. "But not just like this. Our bodies are tougher, more... resilient. Yes, that is the word. Resilient." He looked oddly pleased with himself for a moment and then returned his explanation. "What hurts you does not hurt us as much. It takes much to harm an Elf, far more than it would take to hurt a mortal."

I nodded thoughtfully. That made sense, but it still seemed a bit of a stretch.

"What if you hadn't sworn to protect me? Legolas...if it had been Gimli that had fallen, would you have rescued him too?"

The Elf laughed.

"Rescued? I would hardly call this a rescue, Master Baggins. But to answer your question, I would have tried with him too; perhaps, I would not have thrown him upon my back, but I would have done something. To stand by and do nothing...knowing that I could do _something_..." Legolas shuddered, giving me a haunted stare.

"T'would be little more than murder."

The shadow that lurked behind those suddenly bleak eyes warned me to not push the topic further, that I was pushing the Elf to the limits of what he would discuss with me. For all we were part of the same Fellowship, we were, as I'd already noticed, still largely strangers, and Legolas was a very private person.

Somehow, I doubted that even his closest friends did not know all of his stories, and whatever story was behind his reaction to my questions was not one that I had yet earned access to.

An awkward silence stretched between us for a moment before I managed to gather my confidence to clumsily change the topic.

"Legolas? How much longer do you think it will take us to get off the mountain?"

Legolas started slightly, obviously having lapsed deep into thought and hadn't been expecting me to speak again. When he did speak, his voice started faintly. "Not too much longer I would think." He looked around us, studying the landscape. "Yes, not too much further to go. See the snow?"

He directed my attention to the patch where he had scooped the snow from before. Only a light dusting remained and I could see hints of bare rock and the sparse tufts of grass that lay beneath.

I grinned, delighted. "Do you think we could make it down by nightfall tonight?"

The Elf nodded. "It is a possibility. Are you feeling better now? It will be easier from this point on, but still not easy." He warned me.

I got to my feet, eagerness drowning out how tired and hungry I was. I just wanted off this mountain, I wanted a fire and hot food, I wanted to see Sam and my cousins again, and apologise for worrying them all so much. I dusted the snow off my trousers and looked expectantly at Legolas.

He laughed. "I will take that as a yes then. Hobbits truly are an amazing folk." he commented, unknowingly echoing Gandalf's words to me in Bag-End, many months ago. "I never cease to wonder why you doubt your own abilities, when you are capable of finding the strength to continue so readily." He heaved himself to his feet, wincing a little. "It is quite Elvish of you."

"I...thank you?" I stuttered, flushing with the compliment. Legolas only grinned knowingly at me in response.

We set off again down the path, and I charged ahead a bit, finding the way so much easier now that the snow was thinner. Legolas, in his most enviable fashion, walked lightly over the snow, leaving little trace of his passage behind him. Time seemed to pass much quicker now, and before I knew it, the sun was beginning to set and the earth was beginning to level out beneath my feet.

I turned to Legolas, waiting impatiently for him to catch up. But the Elf had paused, his head cocked again to one side, his expression one of intense concentration.

"What-?"

Legolas held up a hand, silencing me, his blue gaze oddly blank as he listened. The world seemed to fall away as I strained my ears to hear what he had heard.

And then I heard it. Howling.

 _Wolves._

* * *

Sorry this chapter is very dialogue heavy, everyone, but the action will start back up again soon!

Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or even just kept up with this story so far; you're all awesome.

See you all again on Monday!


	5. Discoveries of Discord

There was a time once when I was young, when, in a fit of childish foolishness, my cousins and I had raided Farmer Maggot's crops for a taste of his prized mushrooms. While I had since reconciled with the old farmer, I still felt a thrill of fear remembering how he had caught me and presented me to his pack of dogs, threatening to let them eat me if he caught me on his land again. The dogs had certainly made a lasting impression in my memory, for they had been huge, snarling and gnashing monstrously sharp teeth as they'd barked ferociously at me.

And while I had never met an actual wolf before, the eerie howling ringing across the mountainside was enough to conjure up the image of Farmer Maggot's Wolf in my mind's eye, my imagination and Bilbo's stories of the Fell Winter, distorting the dog into what I thought a wolf might look like.

Needless to say, I became quite terrified.

"They may just be ordinary wolves," Legolas said, startling me. I stared blankly at him; what difference did it make if they were _ordinary wolves_ or not?

"They may just be looking for food," Legolas hastened to explain, obviously seeing the confusion on my face. "An ordinary wolf pack will not bother us, Frodo. They may not love those that walk on two legs, but they will not hunt us unless they are starving."

In all honesty, this was doing very little to reassure me. Every Hobbit-child was raised with fireside tales of wolves, full of darkness and danger and dire warnings to avoid all wolves, lest you be eaten or worse.

Realistically, what wolf pack would not be starving if they were looking for food in these mountains? Aside from the eagle we'd spotted that morning, I had not seen a single animal, not even in the distance.

"And...And if they are not ordinary wolves?" I asked hesitantly. I was going to regret asking such a question, I was certain, but I could not let my fear get in the way of knowing exactly what kind of mess we'd stumbled into. I had to be prepared.

Legolas grimaced, and my stomach plummeted. "Then, they are Wargs. And if that is the case, then we will not want to be caught out in the open like this."

"How...how far away do you think they are?" I asked, hating the way my voice trembled. I had to be strong.

"They sounded close."

"They are," Legolas agreed, without a hint of worry. Indeed, he also seemed to be completely oblivious to just how scared I was - or was blatantly ignoring it. I wasn't sure which was worse. "But not so close that we do not have a chance at evading them. Let me see..."

The Elf paused, moving a little bit back up the path and then stepping onto a small boulder, shading his eyes against the setting sun as he scanned the area. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy; even now, injured and more exhausted than I'd ever seen him, he still managed to climb and perch on that boulder with more ease and grace than I could ever hope to manage.

"The rest of the path is downhill from here," Legolas reported and I hurriedly squashed that pang of envy. "It is not too steep, and even becomes flat in places. It looks much like the area we camped in before venturing into the pass; what did Aragorn call it...the foothills? There are some trees at least for cover. It is not much to work with, but if we get to those trees, we will have an advantage." Legolas sighed, looking up at the sky.

"We have maybe...an hour? Perhaps two? Before the sun sets. We should try reach those trees before dark."

I looked out in the direction he'd been examining a moment before, squinting against the light of the setting sun. Trees? I could only see a few dark blurs in the distance.

"We should keep moving," Legolas advised, hopping down from the boulder and crossing back to my side. "If we move quickly, we should stay ahead of the pack. I do not think we will need to run just yet."

Yet.

Which meant we would likely have to run at some point later, most likely with wargs on our heels, ready to tear us apart the moment we ran out of strength. I was most definitely not feeling reassured.

Legolas, on the other hand, looked rather unconcerned at the prospect of being hunted down by wolves. Didn't he ever worry? About _anything?_ His constant state of...unfounded optimism was beginning to grate on my nerves. There was never any urgency to his actions; didn't he understand how important it was that we return to the Fellowship as quickly as possible?

A sudden heat flared hard and hot in my chest and I fought the urge to scratch at my neck as I glanced back at those thrice-cursed trees, small fuzzy blurs in the distance.

"We'll never make that," I said flatly. My voice sounded oddly distant to my ears, behind a irritating buzzing in my head.

"I agree it will be difficult-" the Elf began. I snapped my hand in a slicing motion, cutting him off.

"Difficult? It's impossible!" I argued. "It's too far, and the wolves are too close and I can barely even SEE those trees, never mind run to them! We're exhausted and we're moving too slowly to ever get anywhere. There's no way we can ever make it, but you don't even seem to care!

"Do you ever feel the need to hurry about anything? No, no, you just stroll through life like _nothing_ matters, because you always have more time and everything will just bend itself to your schedule! Never worry about anything, never need to hurry, because what does _time_ matter to _you?_ You've got plenty of time to do everything so you don't know how to do anything quickly, because what do you care? You probably don't even understand how important it is that we get this Quest done and over with as soon as possible, you probably just think it's just a foolish Mortal whim to get this task done quickly, to get back to the Fellowship sooner rather than later.

"The others aren't just going to stand about waiting for us, Legolas, they just _won't_. They're not going to risk their lives to wait for us, but you don't even seem to understand that! But you don't understand anything about Mortals at all, do you? Never bothered to leave your precious forest, or educate yourself on other cultures, or even to learn our language properly!

"And this stupid petty feuding with Gimli, what is the point of it? Why do you always have to act like you're so superior to him, why can't you just get along and stop all this stupid fighting? Don't you think there's enough fighting without the two of you being so _ridiculously_ petty? In fact, why are you even on this Quest, Legolas? Everyone else has a reason, but not you. Even Gimli has a reason! And you Elves can abandon Middle-Earth anyway, so it's not as if you should have any reason to care!"

The odd buzzing stopped as I fell silent, chest heaving as I became abruptly aware that I'd been shouting.

Legolas was simply standing there, staring at me, an unfathomable expression on his face. I glared back, but found I could not hold his gaze. His eyes, while before had been expressive and open, were now shuttered, closed off and flat. It was disconcerting, as if he had become someone else. It was all the more infuriating, and confusing.

"Are you done?" He asked, not a single trace of emotion in his tone. There was no anger, no coldness, just...emptiness. "Again you doubt yourself too readily, Frodo. Regardless of whether or not you think it is 'impossible', Frodo Baggins, I shall see you back to the Fellowship. Alive. I have faith in that. That is what I promised, and my word is my bond."

And with that, he brushed past me, heading further down the slope without so much as a backward glance at me.

I stood for a few moments, feeling confused and embarrassed as my anger drained away as quickly as it had come. Why had I ever said such things? Why had I even been angry? Because we were slow? A lack of speed was to be expected, given everything that had happened. And I hadn't just been angry, I'd been furious, full of despair, and had lashed out without thinking. At Legolas, who, until now, had put his life on the line repeatedly to keep me alive and safe.

And I had repaid him with thoughtless anger.

Shame overtook me as I started making my way after Legolas, dragging at my steps more than exhaustion ever had. My tirade already seemed so distant and distorted in my memories, as if I had not been the one to speak those hurtful words.

A fog lay over them, a fog I was slowly beginning to identify as the fault of the Ring. That cold whisper of malice that was constantly at the back of my mind, and was starting to wear down my defences and cloud my perceptions. Already, it seemed, it was gaining access to manipulating my emotions.

I sighed, rubbing at my neck and adjusting the chain of the Ring again and again as I walked, falling into a dismayed rhythm, as my thoughts spun uselessly around and around. Legolas kept his distance from me too, walking ahead at a far quicker pace than I could ever have reasonably kept up with for long, and then pausing to allow me to catch up at my staggering, stumbling rate. I could feel his eyes boring into me, hard and flat, so unlike the Legolas I had come to know so recently, and I kept my own gaze from meeting his, ashamed of my outburst. Legolas never allowed the distance between us to close enough for me to begin an apology before he set off again, pushing me to move faster to keep up.

I stopped, leaning my hands on my knees, bent-double as I fought to catch my breath. Everything ached, and we still had so far to go. How were we ever going to make it? This was getting ridiculous.

I stiffened slightly as I heard the quick soft step of Legolas' approach. I glanced up briefly to see his face, still resolutely stern, and felt another flush of shame.

How could I have said such awful things to him?

But...was that a hint of sympathy softening in his eyes?

Was he not as angry as I thought?

I opened my mouth, ready to seize this opportunity to apologise while he was so close. But abruptly, before I could say a word, Legolas scooped me up into his arms, with only a faint grimace of effort.

"Legolas? What are you-?"

"We are running out of time, as you rightly pointed out," Legolas said bluntly, shifting me uncomfortably in his arms. Therefore, we must run, faster than you can manage in such a state.

"But...you're hurt! You'll only make your injuries worse!"

"That is...largely irrelevant now. You are more important than I." Legolas sighed. "Try to remain still, moving around will make this much harder than it needs to be."

Any arguments I might have made were hastily squashed and faded away at that resolute look on his face. After badgering him so about moving too slowly and how unhurried he had been, did I really have the right to argue with him now? He was only doing what I'd asked him to do.

With a huff, Legolas started off at a light rolling jog. It was exceptionally uncomfortable, but I was in no position to complain. At least it wasn't long until Legolas built himself up into a smoother run, cradling me close to his chest, as the world blurred past. I glanced up at him every so often, but he never spoke, his face a mask of pain, his eyes glazed.

The landscape rapidly changed as we ran: the sparse snow and ice gave way to the crumbling stone chips of the foothills, and eventually to soft fields of grass. The sun continued to set ahead of us, occasionally flashing painfully in our eyes as it painted the sky with streaks of bloody orange and swirling ripples of rose. Behind still came the occasional wolf howl, more and more often, still every bit as bone chilling each time.

At last, as Legolas crossed onto the grassy plains, we began to slow. The Elf was breathing raggedly in my ear as he staggered towards a small cluster of trees. I half-slid, half-tumbled from his arms, letting out a yelp of surprise and hitting the earth painfully.

 _Thump._

Next to me, the Elf collapsed in a boneless heap, facedown in the dirt, eyes closed. I hesitated and then dared to crawl closer to him.

"Legolas?"

There was no response from the prone figure. He had pushed himself too hard, too soon, and now it seemed, he was paying the price for it, roaming the Elvish paths of dreams. I swallowed hard, looking back at the grim towering mountain looming to the north-east. We had escaped the clutches of Caradhras and its snowy traps at last, yes, but there was still more perils ahead.

With Legolas unconscious and the Wargs closing in, it was up to me to protect us both.

I could only hope that I was up to the task.

* * *

And so we come to the end of Chapter 5, we're now over the halfway point in this story! Thank you so much, everyone for all the support that's been flooding into my inbox; it really brightens up my day. Everyone who takes the time to review, or favourite or follow this story, you are all so awesome, and you should feel really good about yourselves.

Special shoutout to one of my betas, Morbubble, for this chapter. She really helped me bash it into shape, especially the argument. Without her, I'd have scrapped this chapter and still been flailing in frustration or abandoning the story altogether.

As always everyone, I love hearing from you! Even if you just want to send me a pm for so we can geek out about Elves, I am totally up for that. Or if anyone has an ideas to share for future fics...I'm currently trying to write the sequel to this, and a couple of other fics too, but I love hearing new ideas!

See you all on Thursday!


	6. Shadows of the Mountain

The wind was howling, and so were the wolves, bringing with them a chill that could not entirely be blamed on the January weather. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and pine, and the branches were rattling ominously overhead. My own breath rattled too, harsh and shallow, while the rest of my body hummed with a frantic tenseness, like a spring coiled too tight. Sting clattered noisily in its sheath, clutched in my shaking hands as it was.

The night was dark, and my heart full of terror.

 _You could flee_ , a voice whispered in my ear, more distinctly than ever before. I whirled around, stricken, but there was nothing there but the shadows of the night.

I _could_ run, flee into the night and keep running until the wolves, or Wargs, or whatever they might be, gave up for easier prey. I could maybe find the Fellowship again, how glad they would be to see me, or perhaps even return to Rivendell. I could tell Master Elrond that it could not be done, that a Hobbit, even a Baggins of Bag-End, could not fulfil this mad Quest. It was, as Boromir had said, sheer folly. Not with a thousand Men could you achieve such a task...how could a mere Hobbit do so?

 _You would be a fool to remain,_ the voice insisted. _Only death will find you here._

Only death...I had already escaped death four times since I'd left home, five would definitely be pushing my luck too far. Back in Rivendell, Bilbo had joked about Baggins' luck, how contrary and fickle it was: _You see, Frodo my lad, some would call us unlucky, being caught up in these Big Folk affairs. But isn't it odd, how lucky we are, to constantly be escaping the worst fates? It seems that we always come out of these scrapes far better off than so many of our fellows..._

His eyes had turned dark and serious then, drawn back into his memories of war and the deaths of beloved friends. No one had died for me, not yet, but it was only a matter of time. Surely, it would be a kindness if I left now and returned to Rivendell? Surely...surely Lord Elrond would understand. He had been so kind, so compassionate, so wise. He would think of another way, or let another undertake the Quest. He would be disappointed, perhaps, but he would arrive at the same conclusion.

Everyone _would_ understand.

This Quest...simply could not be achieved. Not by me.

A flash of gold and then abruptly I was tumbling through the grass, away from the tree and Legolas, pinned by a heavy snarling form. Teeth glittered mere inches from my face, bared and snapping, as I thrashed to get free. I choked on the smell of hot rank breath as the Warg made another lunge at my throat.

I heaved for breath, even as large paws pressed down harder on my chest. The darkness fuzzed at the edges of my vision as I stared up at the Warg's lambent yellow eyes, that gleamed with a malignant cunning. I struggled with those snapping jaws with one hand, while the other scrambled desperately for my sword.

I couldn't breathe.

 _You are doomed,_ the voice whispered.

Grasping fingers met metal at last and I tugged at the sword. It would not budge. I tugged again, more feebly, as my strength rapidly began to fail.

 _Doomed._

Please...

 _Shiiiiiing!_

Sting flew abruptly free of its confines, the hilt crashing into the Warg with the force of my final pull. The beast staggered away from me with a yelp and a snarl, and I gasped frantically. Never before had I been so grateful for air!

Chest heaving, dizzy and more than a little disorientated, I wobbled to my feet, both hands holding Sting out in front of me. All swordsmanship lessons had fled my mind, lost behind a fog of fear and desperation. The Warg was circling me again, growling and gnashing its teeth. I could scarcely see the creature, straining my eyes to make out the edges of it. I would not have been able to see it at all, if not for the way its eyes gleamed in the faintest light.

The Warg paused briefly and then, faster than I could see, leapt again at me. I swung Sting blindly, screaming, giving voice to all the fear and despair that had been tormenting me.

I fully expected to die as we crashed again into the grass.

Yet, somehow, my luck had won through again.

I opened my eyes slowly, and found myself nose to nose with the Warg, its yellow eyes dull and flat. Was it...dead? I released my death-grip on Sting and pushed the stinking creature away. It did not stir, not to growl or snarl or bite at me again. It was only then, as I got shakily to my feet, did I grasp that Sting was buried deep in the monster's throat.

Grimacing, I took hold of the blade again and pulled it free. It did not come easily, as I'd hoped, but with several nausea-inducing squelches and a final noisy pop. The smell was horrendous. The once-shining steel was now black with blood. My stomach gave a heave and I stumbled away, retching violently.

The Warg was dead.

I'd killed it.

Me.

I'd never killed anything before.

At least, not deliberately.

But I'd had to. It would have definitely killed me. I had to. It had definitely been trying to kill me. And then, it would have killed Legolas.

And what if it had found the Fellowship?

My cousins, Merry and Pippin, and gentle Sam. They could not have fought off a Warg. But I had. I'd killed it.

It was dead.

And I was not.

Tears streamed down my face as I coughed and choked, my stomach finally giving a few last heaves before settling. I took a deep breath, wiping my face on my sleeve. Gathering my courage, faltering as it was, I approached the corpse slowly.

It was...far bigger than I'd thought. A lean, hungry-looking face still snarled at me, even in death. Legolas had been right: this was no wolf, no natural born creature of the world could ever be so horrifying. I shuddered and made a few half-hearted attempts to clean the blood from Sting on the creature's coarse fur. Shoving the blade back in its sheath, I made my way back to the tree, to Legolas, still spinning with disbelief, that I, Frodo Baggins, had killed a Warg by myself.

 _Always you doubt yourself, Frodo, despite every reason to the contrary._ Legolas' words on the mountain surfaced in my memory, clear and strong, talking over the cold whisper of the Ring that never seemed to fade now from the back of my mind.

I looked down at the Elf lying amid the roots of the tree, unconscious and defenceless, and felt the fog of fear in my mind lift briefly. I had to protect him, didn't I? Killing one Warg would have achieved little, we had heard the howls of many more.

Not to mention The Fellowship, Master Elrond, Bilbo, how disgusted they would be to know that I had even contemplated abandoning my companion when he needed me most, that I had placed my own life above his after sharing such peril.

Bilbo had confided to me once that during his own adventure, just after leaving Rivendell, he had tried to leave his company behind; to return to Rivendell, even though they had been captured by Goblins. It had taken a great deal of courage for him to return to them, he'd told me, and a great deal more to remain as things grew darker. But he'd found his courage in those Goblin tunnels, courage enough to put aside his selfish thoughts and do what was best for the Company. And that had kept him alive through the rest of his perils.

After everything Legolas had risked for me, the hurts he had taken in my stead, I could never abandon him now. To be torn apart by Wargs in his sleep, while I ran for safety and shelter. Not when I could do something...

 _To stand by and do nothing...knowing that I could do something... T'would be little more than murder._

I could appreciate Legolas' earlier words far better now. I could not in good conscience leave him behind now, not to save myself, knowing he would certainly die without me.

Even if the rest of the Wargs did come and kill us both, even if I was ultimately unable to protect him from that fate, I would die knowing that I had done all that I could do. This was how I could repay him for his deeds on the mountain, for risking everything in a mad attempt to save my life. If I could just keep him alive, safe, until he awoke again...

After all, would it not be a cruel irony to have survived the wrath of Caradhras only to perish once we had escaped its' shadow?

A laugh, a shade too much on the side of hysterical, escaped my lips. I startled at the sudden unexpected noise and found myself laughing again at this foolish fright. I took a deep breath, pleased to find my breathing a little easier now, no longer clipped with panic. My mind was clear again.

And I had a plan. Well...an idea of a plan.

"I'll be right back," I whispered to Legolas, with far more confidence than I actually felt. "I promise."

I began by exploring the area carefully, taking care to stay as far as possible from the dead Warg as I could, while also making sure I did not get too far from Legolas. It would not do to lose my way now. I was only exploring, not abandoning him, I reminded myself every few minutes, every time I lost sight of our tree for a moment.

But the time had come to face the truth, I could not sit around and wait to see who would find us first: the Fellowship or the Wargs. And given that the Fellowship had no reason to suspect we were alive... Well it was only fair to level the playing field a little.

A fire was the most obvious solution, and by far the easiest. But it was, I was reluctant to admit, the most dangerous. A fire could attract both friend and foe alike.

I wandered a little further afield, more than a bit aimlessly, hoping for a solution to present itself to my problem. It was only after I'd hauled my weary body up a small hill did I notice I'd discovered my remedy without even noticing.

I looked around excitedly and was more than a little dismayed to recognise I could not distinguish which tree I'd left Legolas at, given how pale the moon was overhead. Time had worn on more quickly than I'd thought, it must be nearing midnight now. I had wasted too much time.

I hurried back to the trees, much faster than I'd expected to, and began gathering dead branches. I made several trips back to the hill, making a small pile of them, before the obvious problem smacked me in the face.

How in the name of all that was _good_ was I supposed to light it?

I groaned quietly. _Fool!_ Fool for thinking yourself so clever! I shook my head, dispelling the negative thoughts. There was always a way. I patted my pockets quickly, hoping for some flint, but no, it was in my pack. I hadn't needed to carry my own. But...

"Sorry," I whispered to Legolas, as I patted him down carefully, searching for pockets in his tunics and leggings. Nothing. Not a scrap of flint or matches.

 _See? There is no way..._

Be quiet! I shook my head again, forcing the voice away. There was a way. You could use wood. A stick spun fast enough against other wood would burn. I'd seen it done, though I'd never done it myself before. Well, tonight certainly seemed to be a night for firsts.

I ran back to the hill as fast as my protesting legs could carry me. All but flinging myself at the pile, I sorted through the jumble of sticks until I found one I guessed to be the most suitable.

Now then...for the fire.

You just place the stick against the others, and spin, yes? The stick clattered away the first time, slipping out of my unsteady hands a second, third, fourth, fifth time. I grit my teeth, trying different positions, different sticks, different ways of holding, again and again and again. I would not give up.

I could do this.

And then finally, a spark!

At first, I could only stare in sheer relief. Quickly! I gathered myself and leaned close, blowing gently on the feeble spark, coaxing it to life. As it grew, I fed it with bits of scrap detritus until, at last, I had my little fire. I let out a sigh of relief, letting out all the tenseness of my limbs and feeling intense weariness crash over me like a wave. My eyes slid closed, lulled by the warmth of the fire on my face.

I jerked as my head drooped.

No, I could not sleep yet.

Not here.

With much reluctance, I cajoled my lethargic limbs into action again and made the trek back to tree and Legolas, still as motionless and silent as I'd left him. I settled down next to him, leaning against the tree trunk and gathering my cloak about me to ward away the cold. I fixed my gaze on the small fire, burning bright atop the hill. That was sure to bring someone to investigate.

Hopefully the right kind of someone.

All I had to do now was wait and watch.

* * *

Another Thursday, another Chapter! Thank you all for checking in again, and special thanks to everyone who's leaving reviews and lovely comments and questions, and favouriting and following; it really makes my day every time my email gives that little ding. Seriously, all the thanks for the uncontrollable smiles.

This was a tricky chapter to wrangle into shape, so I hope you all enjoy it and will come back on Monday for the penultimate chapter!


	7. Fires in the Wild

The Elf did not wake for several more hours, by which time we were well into the night and I was decidedly more miserable than when I had begun my watch. Stiff from being huddled against the trunk of a tree, hunched over from the cold, hands numb from clinging to the hilt of Sting, I did not notice Legolas stirring beside me for many moments. It was only when he began to push himself upright with a groan that I was startled out of my reverie.

"Frodo?" Legolas asked quietly. "What happened?"

"You fainted." I explained, resisting the urge to yawn widely. "I could not wake you..."

I was quite beginning to think he'd never wake again, in all truthfulness. That had been a terrifying thought that had occurred to me during my watch, and not one I cared to linger on.

"And the Wargs did not come?" Legolas looked around in puzzlement, as if expecting to see Wargs spring up out of the grass at us at any moment. I shook my head.

"There was one but..." I hesitated and then pointed. The sharp Elvish gaze followed my pointing finger, alighting upon the faint shape in the grass a few feet away. Legolas turned back to me, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You killed it?"

I nodded again, fighting back a sudden wave of nausea at the memory. Much to my surprise, Legolas clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"That was well done, Frodo. You saved both our lives."

I could not speak, for fear of being sick yet again, but was simultaneously pleased at his praise. He did not seem to be angry still, he was not treating me with the same distant iciness that had been between us before our final desperate flight. The Elf gave me a small smile, which faltered for a moment as a frown settled onto his expression. He turned slightly, looking back out the way we had come.

"Frodo, there is a fire. A small one, but with no people. How long has that been there?"

 _Ah..._ I felt a blush creeping onto my face. "That was my doing, I'm afraid."

The Elf looked at me in bewilderment. "My, you have been busy. Pray tell then, why the fire? Why so far away?"

"I thought, perhaps..." I trailed off, embarrassed. Legolas gave me an encouraging nod. "I thought perhaps the Company would see it and come to investigate. But I made sure that it was far enough away that we would be able to see anyone at the fire, but they could not see us. And I'd hoped that the smoke might help hide our scents from the Wargs." I blurted out all in a rush.

Perhaps not the best idea in the world, I was forced to concede, watching the Elf carefully studying the fire and mulling over what I'd said.

"A better plan than any I could have thought of." Legolas said at last, nodding thoughtfully. "Have you seen anyone, by chance?"

I shook my head. "No one."

That was the one area in which my plan had failed: there had been absolutely no sign of the Fellowship at all during my weary vigil. No silhouettes at the fire, no calling voices in hope of reply, nothing at all.

As frightened and dismayed as I was by this, I was glad to have Legolas awake again. He seemed far more alert and bright than before, and indeed, it looked as if he was feeling somehow better. I felt somewhat trapped, torn between blurting out an apology for my earlier angry words and letting the matter rest. It seemed Legolas was deliberately avoiding mentioning our earlier falling-out, and I was not such a glutton for punishment as to bring it up at this moment and spoil his mood. Instead, I sat quiet for a moment as the Elf stretched stiff limbs and wandered over to the dead Warg.

What he found in his inspection, he did not share with me when he returned a few minutes later, but his expression was utterly unfathomable. I got to my feet, clumsily sheathing Sting with a none-too-quiet _snick_ as my hands trembled.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Legolas blinked, as if startled out of deep thought. "Not precisely wrong, no. But something is making me uneasy." He glanced around warily, and then up towards the fire. "I am going to have a look around; you should remain here and rest for a bit. Yes." He nodded to himself, and beckoned me over to the tree. "See there, Frodo, those forking branches? You will be safe enough to sleep there until I return."

All the blood drained from my face and I stared at him incredulously. Me? Sleep in a tree?

"It is perfectly safe," he said with maddening calmness. "I do so all the time."

"Yes, but...but you're an Elf!" I blustered.

"That makes a difference?"

"Well..." I groped for an answer that did not sound horribly insensitive and failed. "Oh very well. But however am I meant to get up there?"

Legolas grinned, teeth flashing starkly in the pale light. "I will lift you to the lower branches and from there, I'm afraid, you will need to climb."

I suppressed a groan. This was, frankly, a terrible idea. Like as not, I was going to fall off or fail to get any sleep at all. I looked uncertainly at the tree again and then back at Legolas.

"Are you certain you should be lifting me at all? I would very much not like to be the cause of further pain for you."

The Elf shrugged, an infuriating gesture from a being so effortlessly graceful. "After all that has happened since the...the...since we were separated from the Fellowship, I think a little lifting should not be too difficult. That rest has recovered enough of my strength."

"Oh." I said, feeling a little foolish. "Yes, of course."

"Enough stalling, Master Baggins." Legolas laughed faintly, and extended his hands towards me.

After much scrambling, swearing, and near falls, I was finally settled on my perch, and looked down at Legolas. I was, truthfully, not that high off the ground, but still high enough that it would certainly hurt if I was to fall.

"Just relax, Frodo," Legolas laughed. "It is a good tree, it will not let you fall. I have made it promise, so to speak."

 _Enough of the mind-reading!_

"I will never be able to sleep up here," I groused aloud instead.

"Try," Legolas retorted firmly. "I promise not to be gone for too long."

He had only gone a few steps, before he turned back to me, his expression conflicted. "Frodo..."

"Yes?"

"I...Try not to get into any trouble while I am away."

I huffed pointedly and settled into the uncomfortable forking branches, unwilling to dignify such a comment with a response. The Elf quirked a small smile and then loped away into the darkness.

Alone again with my thoughts, I could not help but wonder at what the Elf had left unspoken. It seemed unlike him not to speak his mind outright. A small part of me began to worry that perhaps Legolas was leaving me after all, that I had driven him away at last and he had seized his chance to be free of me.

No. I shook my head and deliberately uncurled my fingers from the Ring. He would never do such a thing. He had promised after all. I shivered, pulling my cloak in tighter. At least it wasn't raining; thank goodness for small mercies, I wasn't sure if I could have handled being wet on top of everything else.

Despite my protestations, I dozed fitfully, jerking awake at the smallest noises: the wind rattling the trees too hard, a owl flashing past with a mournful hoot, and the occasional eerie howl in the distance. I blinked, bleary-eyed and stiff, as I looked for the latest cause of my wakefulness. Something was off this time. My fingers crept to the Ring again, my breath suddenly feeling short.

Slowly, carefully, I craned my head to look down, pushing aside the nauseating vertigo of the height. Something was definitely down there, a shadowy figure stalking through the grass. Legolas? No. The Elf would have never come so close without speaking first.

It was not an Orc scout at least, a quick belated glance at Sting told me that much. They seemed most likely to be a Man, despite their awkward crouching-creeping walk, and lacking as they did the ethereal grace of an Elf or the stature of a Dwarf. But Good or Evil, I would not be able to tell, especially not perched in a tree like a squirrel. I sensed no outward malice at least - not yet at any rate.

The figure circled the tree several times, kneeling occasionally, and then wandered slightly afield, before returning again. I frowned, watching them as closely as I could manage before I understood what they were doing. Tracking! They were following my tracks from my earlier fight with the Warg and my path back and forth from the hill.

The realisation surprised me. It took an extremely skilled tracker to follow Hobbit prints, especially in such poor lighting, even if one knew what to look for. Only Elvish tracks were harder to follow; only an Elf could follow another Elf, generally speaking.

The figure had once again returned to the spot below my tree, and let out a sigh. I stilled, fearing discovery. Perhaps this tree had not been the best hiding spot, for once I was spotted, I could not easily get down or escape. I silently cursed Legolas for not letting me accompany him on whatever hare-brained mission he was off on, and for leaving me trapped like a fox in a hole.

The stranger stood up straight at last, stretching to an impressive height, as they raised their gaze upwards towards the sky. The hood fell from their head, illuminating noble, yet weary features, and I all but tumbled from my perch in shock. My strangled gasp caught his attention as grey eyes met blue, and a hand flew to a sword hilt in an automatic startle reflex.

"Frodo?"

"Aragorn!"

* * *

Apologies for this chapter being shorter than the others, but things are coming to their inevitable conclusion now. Thursday will be the last chapter for this fic (plus an epilogue, which will go up on the same day, because it's quite short).

Thank you to everyone who keeps coming back for more, and to all of you reading this for the first time; I'm humbled by how many people seem to be enjoying this fic, and leaving such lovely reviews, or following and favouriting this story. You lot are awesome!


	8. The Fate of Many

"Aragorn!"

I all but flew down the tree, sliding and scrambling my way to the ground, throwing myself at the stunned Ranger. Aragorn laughed softly and then knelt to my height, scanning my face worriedly.

"It is you, Frodo," he whispered. "Beyond all hope...how?"

"Legolas," I said simply.

"I should have known," Aragorn shook his head. "That Elf is every bit as stubborn as his father. But...where is he?"

I frowned, looking around, hopeful Legolas would reappear at that moment. "I'm not sure. He said he was going to look around, but he hasn't come back yet."

Aragorn made a thoughtful noise and then smiled at me. "I will go and look for our wayward companion, once I have returned you to the others, that is."

Finally! My smile grew wider yet at the thought and I felt a delighted laugh bubble up. To be able to rest and eat and drink and be surrounded by friends again, knowing that they were safe and not grieving for me.

Aragorn smiled at my evident delight and straightened up. "Come, Frodo. The Company is not far. You are able to walk a little further, aren't you?" His frown was back as he examined me with that piercing grey gaze Pippin had dubbed his "Healer stare" - a look all Healers shared when confronted with a possible patient.

I hastily waved away his concern, reluctant to be poked and prodded over. "I'm fine, Aragorn. It's Legolas you should be worried about."

"Hmm." That did nothing to dispel the stare, but it seemed to placate him for the moment. I sighed softly in relief and followed the tall Ranger in the darkness.

Several long minutes later, my attention had wandered away as my body's hurts and exhaustion began to creep back in again. Just as I felt certain I was going to have to beg Aragorn to stop, just for a moment, I was flat on my back, pinned beneath several shouting shadowy forms.

 _Merry! Pippin!_

I was pulled back to my feet and immediately enveloped into air-stealing hug that I gladly reciprocated. I took my turn with each of them, first Merry, then Pippin and finally Sam, pulling each close to whisper apologies and reassurances of my well-being, guilt striking my heart at each indication of grief that marked their faces.

Peeking over my cousins faces, I saw Gandalf smiling warmly at me, his expression one of profound relief and joy. Gimli gave a loud delighted laugh and congratulated me on my uncanny Baggins luck, while stomping over to slap me heartily on the back. Even Boromir managed to give me a few quiet words of relief and welcome, before Sam finally took charge of me.

"Now, you sit down here, Mister Frodo." I was steered past everyone else and sat, quite firmly, in front of the tiny fire. _Oh sweet fire_ , I stretched my hands out to it instinctively. Within seconds, another cloak had been draped over my shoulders and food had been stuffed into hands along with one of our water canteens. I barely managed to choke out a polite thank you before setting to it with a vengeance, dimly aware of Merry and Pippin huddled on either side of me, as if afraid to let me out of their sight.

"Now what do we do?" Boromir asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over our group. "Our Ringbearer has returned alive, against all hope, which means our Quest is no longer at a halt. But Caradhras is no longer available to us as a path, it seems."

"There are other paths over the mountains." Gimli shrugged. "And, indeed, paths under the mountains."

"Not just yet!" Sam protested. "Mister Frodo needs to rest first before we go traipsing off anywhere, over or under mountains!" He gave the others a formidable glare, that simply dared them to challenge him over my wellbeing. I fought back a smile and smothered my laughter by stuffing another wafer of travelling biscuit into my mouth.

"Well, no, of course," Boromir conceded. "We would have to let Frodo recover his strength for a while." He flashed me a small smile, no doubt meant to be reassuring. "And if need be, we have a pony he could ride, or indeed, one of us could carry him."

"We are not going anywhere yet," I interjected firmly. The others looked around at me, almost surprised to hear me speak. "We are not leaving without Legolas."

"Aragorn is looking for him now, Frodo," Gandalf said gently. "We will not leave without him." I felt a stab of guilt; I had not even noticed the tall Man leave, and yet, I owed him so much for bringing me back to the Fellowship.

"If he is still alive to be found," Boromir muttered.

"He was alive when I last saw him," I countered, my temper flaring. "Which was not so very long ago."

"Then you both survived the fall?" Pippin asked curiously. I nodded.

"Legolas saved me." I looked down at the fire. "I would have died without him. He was exhausted, and badly hurt, but he still kept going, and kept me going. Even when I lost hope, even when I was...when I didn't believe I would ever see you all again, Legolas refused to let me give up. I said...terrible things to him, things I should not have said, and I need to be able to apologise for them. So I'm not giving up on him."

"Well said, Frodo Baggins."

I all but jumped out of my skin at Legolas' voice behind me. I twisted round and leapt at the exhausted Elf as he emerged from the shadows, abandoning the plate of food. Aragorn followed closely behind him, grinning smugly.

"I found him near where you had been hiding, Frodo," Aragorn explained. "Grumbling about unreliable Hobbits always wandering off. First time I've ever managed to surprise him too."

Legolas levelled an exasperated look at him. "You did not surprise me, I could smell you from a mile off."

"And that's why you nearly took my head off with your knife?" Aragorn teased, prying Legolas away from me to sit him down by the fire.

"You needed to be taught to not try and sneak up on Elves," Legolas retorted, shrugging off Aragorn's guiding hands. I hastily retook my own seat and continued my abandoned meal, shooting Sam an apologetic glance. My friend only huffed affectionately as he carried Aragorn his pack.

Aragorn and Legolas lapsed into Elvish as their tones grew more serious. Legolas occasionally hissed in pain and batted at Aragorn's hands as Aragorn prodded a particularly sore spot. The Healer stare was in full authoritative mode, but the Elf seemed largely unfazed by it.

"Boromir, Gimli," Aragorn called, waving the two over. "I am going to need your help."

"What for?" Legolas' eyes narrowed, shuffling away from Aragorn in suspicion.

The Ranger only smiled. "I don't want you taking my head off when I rebreak your shoulder. It's started healing wrong, as well you know."

Legolas gave another hiss as a response. Aragorn merely shrugged. "It's your arm. But you'll never use your bow again if I don't reset your shoulder properly."

At that, the Elf seemed to deflate somewhat. "Oh very well." He pointedly closed his eyes as Aragorn directed Boromir and Gimli into position.

"Try to hold him as steady as you can," he instructed them. "This will most definitely hurt, and I do not need to be punched in the face on a reflex."

Food forgotten again, I could only stare in horrified curiousity as Aragorn took a tight grip on Legolas' injured shoulder. "On three... _min...tâd..._ " Aragorn snapped the shoulder before reaching three, with a sickening pop. I watched Legolas jerk against Gimli and Boromir's restraining hands, jaw clenched, and his face grew several shades paler, before he unleashed a string of breathless Elvish curses, most of which I guessed were on the colourful side, judging from Gandalf's faint look of amusement.

Aragorn didn't even seem to notice. "Take a moment, get your breath back. It'll be easier going back in than out."

"You said on three," Legolas growled.

"I lied." Aragorn freely confessed. "You would have tensed otherwise."

"Would not."

"Patients always say that, and yet, in my experience, they always tense." Aragorn handed the Elf a water canteen with a look of exasperated fondness. "Drink, and then I'll set your shoulder properly."

Legolas took several large gulps, before nodding grimly and handing the canteen back. "Do it."

"On three again then." Aragorn nodded to Gimli and Boromir to brace themselves again. " _Min...tâd...nêl!_ "

There was another sickening pop, smaller this time, and Legolas did not react nearly as violently. He spat out only a single half-hearted curse at Aragorn and all but slumped as they released him.

"You are a terrible patient," Aragorn informed him as he pushed back golden hair to inspect the cut across Legolas' forehead.

"And you are a vicious Healer. Vicious and...what is the word, Mithrandir?" The Elf looked beseechingly at Gandalf, supplying the Elvish word he knew.

"Sadistic is the word you're looking for, Legolas." The wizard chuckled.

"Yes. Vicious and sadistic Healer."

Aragorn hummed in agreement. "All for your good health, Thranduilion." He began carefully wiping away the remaining blood and dirt surrounding the cut with a damp cloth, humming cheerfully all the while.

Pippin turned to me with wide eyes. "I've never seen Legolas act like this before," he confided in a whisper to me.

"He's normally a bit shy," I whispered back, a little giddy to be reunited. Merry and Sam crowded in to listen as well. "He just feels a little out of place, because we're all so close. So from now on," I added, a little more sternly. "We are all going to do our best to make him more welcome to talk with us, understand?"

The other three Hobbits nodded solemnly, absorbing my words. I hoped they would take it to heart; being kind people, they most likely would do their best, especially since none of us had necessarily meant to exclude the Elf before.

"No archery for a few days," Aragorn informed Legolas firmly as he finished his ministrations. "No heavy lifting either, or acrobatics, or your usual Elven stunts. Understood?"

Legolas nodded, looking a little brighter than before. "Understood, Aragorn. But, am I right in guessing, that 'no archery' means...?"

Aragorn laughed. "Yes we brought your bow down the mountain with us. Merry, fetch Legolas his bow, please? He won't relax until he's seen it for himself, I think."

Within moments, Legolas was handling his bow, running sensitive fingers along the wood with an almost childlike delight.

Aragorn smiled, a little sadly. "I was not looking forward to returning that to your father."

Legolas snorted. "You would have been lucky to leave with your head if you had. But...I am also glad that you did not have to undertake such a dangerous task."

"I hate to interrupt such a...touching moment," Gimli interjected. "But we still have a problem to deal with."

That startled me out of the hazy, sleepy fog I had been beginning to drift into, lulled by warmth and food and friends. "The Warg pack."

I immediately regretted blurting that out as all faces around me turned grim.

"Yes, we will definitely need to deal with those before we proceed," Aragorn said.

"But proceed to where?" Boromir argued. "Onward, to the Gap of Rohan?"

Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli and Gandalf began what was now an all-too-familiar argument, each making suggestions - the Gap of Rohan, the Mines of Moria - only to be shot down by a counter-argument. And around and around they went. The last time, they had left the decision to me and I had made what was now blatantly obvious to have been the wrong choice: to continue over the mountain. We had lost days of travel time, which I now feared would come back to haunt us in the long run.

I hunched over, picking at my food. Hopefully they would not ask for my opinion again, since the last one had had such disastrous consequences. I could not be trusted with these decisions, and I had no desire to have another burden placed my already heavy shoulders. What if, next time, my decision got someone killed?

From across the fire, I caught Legolas' gaze. The Elf looked at me, grinned and rolled his eyes at the bickering foursome. I grinned back, catching his mood, and his expression turned serious, his gaze flicking pointedly between me and the bickering group. I cringed a little, shying away from what I knew he was trying to tell me. I did not want to make this decision. Legolas frowned at me and mouthed two words:

 _Trust yourself._

I flushed and felt that familiar determination rise up in response. It was as Legolas had been trying to tell me all along: I was far more capable than I gave myself credit for. We were both alive, weren't we? It had been _my_ plan that led Aragorn to us, _I'd_ killed the Warg while Legolas had been unconscious. I was the Ringbearer, and which meant, ultimately, the decision was mine. I had to choose, and choose rightly, what was the safest path for our Fellowship. And I needed to trust in that decision, and myself, as Legolas had encouraged me to do before.

"We will go through the Mines," I spoke up, before I could lose my nerve. It was the only choice I could reasonably pick, in the end. We could not risk the Gap, the mountain had been tried and failed, and returning to Rivendell was not an option at all. Two of our Fellowship had already passed through Moria and lived, which made it already slightly more promising, along with Gimli's assurances that Balin had taken a colony of Dwarves to reclaim the mines not too long ago. The lure of rest and comfort was very appealing.

A sudden quiet greeted my announcement as everyone turned to look at me. I was reminded, uncomfortably, of my announcement at the Council of Elrond, to take the Ring to Mordor. I wondered if I would regret this decision as keenly as I did that one.

In the end, it was only Gandalf that responded, in a very weary tone:

"So be it."

* * *

Only a short epilogue to go and then the story is complete!


	9. Epilogue: Towards Moria!

"I said _no_ shooting!" Aragorn bellowed over the noise of snarling Wargs and the roar of the fire at our backs.

The Elf grinned at him as he neatly side-stepped a Warg corpse that crashed before him with an arrow in its throat. "I am using my other arm, mostly. I switched!" he called back. He had, indeed. He was using his injured arm to hold the bow, instead of for drawing back the string, which would have put too much strain on his healing shoulder.

Aragorn gave a frustrated growl in response, launching another attack on a Warg.

I watched them fight, Aragorn and Legolas, Boromir and Gimli, dancing madly among the ferocious Wargs and marvelled at them. I and my fellow Hobbits were clustered behind them, mostly out of the way, with our swords drawn. I may have killed one Warg, but I was by no means a warrior, nor were the other Hobbits. Gandalf was our main line of defence from any Wargs that slipped past our warrior foursome, but it was looking increasingly unlikely to be necessary.

Although Aragorn had all but forbidden Legolas to join the fight, the Elf had stubbornly refused to remain at the back, or to refrain from using his bow. It meant Aragorn was likely going to verbally tear him apart later, but I did not think Legolas was going to care all that much.

From what Bilbo had told me of Legolas' father, I did not think any such yelling by Aragorn could really compare to Thranduil's temper.

In any case, Legolas was obeying Aragorn, from a certain point of view. He was not actively seeking out Wargs, as Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli were doing; he was mostly on the defensive. I had counted only four arrows that had flown unerringly from his bow in the whole fight - which in truth meant exactly four dead Wargs.

Suddenly, the roar of the fire behind me became very loud and I shut my eyes instinctively against the abrupt blinding flash of light. Gandalf's voice thundered all around us, a magical incantation that set all the trees about us in a blaze. The Wargs howled and fled, or died where they stood, struck down by Wizardly fire.

Legolas grinned, and laughed as he inspected the corpse of one such Warg. He was, I felt, likely pointedly ignoring the burning trees; he would no doubt find a moment in which to harass Gandalf about the necessity of setting whole trees on fire later.

I understood him better now, in a way that I had not when we had first been separated from the Fellowship. It was the little things that mattered with Legolas, that marked his mercurial moods and bizarre humour and still strange Elvish ways. But little by little, I was gaining an understanding of him, and he of me, and through that understanding we were becoming friends.

I looked at him curiously, and met those intense blue eyes again as I picked my way over to him. It was unlikely we'd get a quiet moment again, just the two of us, for a while yet and there was still one issue I wished to resolve with him. One that I did not particularly want the rest of the Fellowship listening in on.

"Legolas," I said, a little cautiously. "I am...sorry, for what I said to you, on the mountain.'

Legolas smiled gently. "It was already forgiven, Frodo. I regret how I reacted however. Your words...reminded me sharply of my father, of things he used to say. But I have thought long on what you said, and I will _attempt_ to take them on board. Though, with the Dwarf, it may be easier to say than do." A brief look of exasperation crossed his features before being replaced by a tentative smile. "Forgive me, for reacting poorly?"

I could have wept with relief. "Already forgiven, Legolas." I looked down at the dead Warg he had been inspecting. "May I ask...what was it you found amusing about this - this thing?" I wrinkled my nose; the smell of burning fur was horrendous.

"That was real magic, Frodo," he declared. "Elves could not do this thing. And _that_ is why he is a Wizard and we are not."

I still did not get the joke.

"Come now, you two," Gandalf called. I looked up to see him waiting impatiently with the rest of the Fellowship. A smile crept onto my face to see them all standing there, safe and unharmed. Legolas smiled down at me and clapped my shoulder fondly before striding away to join the others.

I waited for a moment, watching as Aragorn began to berate him soundly for fighting, Legolas looking as unfazed as I'd predicted. Merry and Pippin were standing with Boromir, listening with rapt expressions as he told them a story, full of grand gestures and fond smiles. Gimli stood a little apart from the others, eyes burning with his eagerness to be away, to reach Moria.

Sam and Gandalf were watching me in return, equally concerned looks on their faces. I hurried towards them, apologising for keeping everyone waiting.

Our quest was not yet over, not by a long shot. There would be darkness and danger aplenty on the road ahead, but I could surely trust in my companions to help me along the way, to keep me going when all hope seemed lost.

Our first trial was over.

* * *

And that's the end! Kudos to all of you who made it here; each and every one of you are lovely people! A thousand thanks to you all for reading, for reviewing, for following and favouriting; I've said all this before, but I mean it every time. You are the best.

Special shoutouts have to go to my beta-readers, all of whom can be found here on ffn: Morbubble; love-yoshness; Tobi is a good boy. Without them, this story would never have been finished, and would be gathering dust in my harddrive, a shadow of what it became.

Yes, I am working on the next story, but I'm one of those authors who likes to have everything read and beta'd before posting, so keep an eye out in the coming weeks. I'm hoping to get this new one finished a lot quicker than Trial By Separation - which took over a year to get fully written and edited - but this new one won't take nearly as long, I've got a plan this time.

Also, other stories to write too - a big long one about Legolas' childhood in Mirkwood, and maybe a couple of other one/two-shots, we'll see.

Thanks everyone!


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